


Terrible Customer Service

by Drabbles_by_Del



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Season/Series 03, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 11:47:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16367306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drabbles_by_Del/pseuds/Drabbles_by_Del
Summary: Tag to 3x04, Blindsided. Just a quick blurb about the last few minutes of the episode and what happens after.





	Terrible Customer Service

**Author's Note:**

> IF YOU HAVE A FEAR/PHOBIA/ANXIETY OF WATER AND/OR DROWNING, PROCEED WITH CAUTION IF YOU CHOOSE TO READ  
> IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN EPISODE FOUR OF SEASON THREE YET, THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS SO READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

Matt felt himself slowly coming out of the drug-induced sleep he’d fallen into. He was still in the cab; the smell of worn polyester clawed through his nose and helped clear his sinuses slightly, but something felt off. They were passing the objects outside the car at an alarming rate.

“Wherearewe?” His words slurred together, his body still trying rid itself of the drugs in his system. He tried to sit up, but movement meant pain. “Where, uh …” Something wasn’t right. The cab was moving fast, and Matt could smell something salty outside his window. “Hey,” he said, pushing himself further up on the seat, his slightly panicked state giving him adrenaline, which made it easy to push past the stiff and sore muscles. “Hey, hold up, stop the car,” he requested. 

“No problem. We’ll get you home.” 

As soon as the driver spoke, the feeling that something was wrong cemented in Matt’s core. It was a different driver. Matt sat forward. 

“Who are you?” 

The driver didn’t answer. Instead, there was a click as the door opened, and the salty smell Matt had sensed before was multiplied exponentially. Then the man was moving, his heart rate spiking as he prepared, and then launched himself out of the moving vehicle. Matt’s sightless eyes widened in shock. 

“Hey! Hey!” Matt frantically shoved his hands to the side as he felt for the doors of the cab. Both were locked. Matt could hear the ticking of the meter, still running as if they were still planning on charging him for this ride through Hell. “No, no, no!” The panic in Matt’s chest was building, threatening to crush his lungs. “No,” he continued saying as he tried the doors again. Yanking on them did absolutely nothing, and Matt realized he was out of time. His sightless eyes sought out the front of the cab, his senses going haywire as the speeding car brought him closer and closer to the rail, the only thing separating the car from the water. 

With one last desperate attempt, Matt got on his back and tried kicking at one of the doors to try and get it open, but before he could get in more than one kick, it was over. The cab slammed into the guard rail, and was suddenly soaring freely through the air. For a second or two, anyway. Then it crashed down into the water.

Matt heard the windshield crack and shatter on impact. Glass was flying through the air towards the back of the cab, but those shards were the least of his problems. The cab was taking on water, and fast. Matt could already feel his shoes slowly filling with the salty liquid. He forced himself to take in one deep breath, trying to clear his mind. Escaping would be impossible if he began panicking. If there was one thing Matt hated, it was being underwater. Half of his senses didn’t work, and the others were distorted at best. 

Panic was bad, but fear? Fear is good. Fear is an excellent motivator, as long as you make sure it doesn’t control you, and that’s exactly what Matt had learned how to do. So once he took in one deep breath, he used that fear and focused on getting the cab door open. Once again on his back, he began kicking. Over and over and over again he pounded his feet against the door, and finally felt it budge. Unfortunately his relief at that was quickly replaced by the fear as he felt the water brush his chin. The submerged cab had sunk almost completely, and Matt had only begun to get his escape plan to work in his favor. There was limited air left, and the blind man knew that his time was up. It was now or never. 

Pressing his cheek against the roof to give himself as much space as he could, Matt sucked in a deep breath as the water slowly creeped higher and higher. Then, he was submerged. The panic he’d been holding back threatened to claw its way out of his chest as he held his breath, but he managed to get ahold of himself and get back to work. Knowing it was next to impossible to build up the momentum he needed to get the door open underwater threatened to break the feeble dam holding back Matt’s panic, but he somehow managed to keep it together. 

He could feel the pressure getting tighter as the car sunk lower into the bay. The body of water wasn’t that deep, but for Matt, whose senses were heightened to an almost-superhuman amount, it wasn’t that difficult to feel it building.

The door was already slightly busted, and Matt knew it would only take one more good ramming to get it to open. The only question was how to build up the momentum under water. The liquid threw off Matt’s perception, but he was able to throw his hands around until he connected with a headrest, along with a seatbelt in the back seat with him. Using those two objects as solid anchors, Matt once again drew his legs back and kicked, frustrated with how slowly he moved. 

The pressure behind his eyes was building, the feeling one gets moments before passing out. He couldn’t do this for much longer; he needed air soon. Tiny air bubbles escaped from his nose and mouth every time he kicked, each movement causing him to lose a bit of the precious oxygen. Finally, just when he felt the last of his air escape, the cab door swung open. With a push, Matt managed to get himself out of the still-sinking vehicle and swam for what he hoped was the surface. Thankfully, the further he swam, the less his chest ached from the pressure. His oxygen supply was depleted, but Matt knew that if he could hold on for just another few seconds …

His head broke the surface of the water, and he coughed out the liquid that had entered his mouth and was trying to make its way to his lungs. It took a moment for his brain to process that he was breathing again, but once he realized it, Matt gulped in breath after breath of the precious, much-needed, stale, salty air. 

He could hear traffic in the distance, and he used that to help guide himself back to shore. It was slow going, thanks to the drug Fisk had him injected with, along with the barrage of injuries he’d sustained during the riot, but finally his hand brushed against the wooden pier. He dragged himself out of the water, and hoisted himself up onto the dock, where he rolled onto his back and just laid there for a few minutes, trying to calm his breathing, along with his racing heart. 

After a moment, Matt rolled to the side, despite his body’s desperate pleas to stay put. He could taste and smell the coppery tang of his blood as he moved, opening up cuts that had temporarily stopped bleeding, and he could hear the liquid running through the fibers on his shirt. He was glad it was dark. This was definitely not a good look to be wearing around town if you wanted to go unnoticed. 

"Get off the streets," Matt’s mind blustered at him. "Get somewhere safe."

There was only one place in Matt’s mind. The only place he could think of that meant safety. Something the fake cabbie had said right before he bailed from the doomed cab. 

Home.


End file.
